Sunday, April 22, 2012

The Tallest Mountain

Every Sunday morning I feel like I am fighting a war. Actually the war starts on Saturday night while I'm sleeping. If/when I can. I never sleep well, and each night of deep sleep comes with the price of weird dreams, a side effect of the Melatonin my doctor has me on. So I put up with bad dreams on most nights in order to feel refreshed in the mornings. Saturday nights/Sunday mornings, the dreams are always particularly vile and I always wake up on Sunday's very very depressed.

Yes, I know. There's a war going on.

And physically I wake up on Sundays feeling beaten. Pummeled. In pain.

Yes, I know. That war thing. It's no accident.

I fall asleep praying, I pray when I wake up at night, and a wake up praying. Lord have mercy. Theotokos help me. Jesus have mercy on me a sinner. It's nothing amazing...just me crying out to God.

And the battle rages on.

Many times, I lose the battle and stay a home. The physical aspects of living with chronic illness are sometimes too much for me and I just don't have the strength to be there and fight for that meeting with the Lord. I think the depression stuff is worse, or as bad as the pain and fatigue. Maybe its all one thing.

Today was not such a day. Today was a day when I woke up and fought and pressed through the pain. I was in pain the entire time at Church.

A victory, perhaps, to be there...me, and my stupid embarrassing cane, which I barely used today because I didn't have the energy to stand up hardly at all.

I was there, and I made confession and I took communion. The most important things got accomplished. Win.

And folks, I wanna say: Anyone who is dead serious about living the Christian life is living in a spiritual battle zone. We are at war. We are not alone, by any means, but we are at war...and not just the ones of us who are dealing with chronic pain or illness. We are all of us either fighting this battle or not fighting it.

It helps to look at Sunday mornings as a war zone. It used to be that the battle played out on my insecurities, and Sunday was the day I could. not. find. a. thing. to. wear. and when I battled my insecurities the most. Lately that hasn't been the issue (I only changed shirts once and jacket/sweater once...but that's because I dripped makeup on my first shirt and because I opted for a more comfortable/softer sweater over a structured jacket due to pain issues...at this point I almost don't care what I look like as long as I'm decent).

But that Sunday morning battle rages. It hits our weakest spot. It's like climbing the tallest mountain, sometimes...just trying to make to the Eucharist.

I'll be honest: I like my cane. It helps me walk. I like it so much I might write a blog post about it.

Fashionablecanes.com is a great resource for how to size & carry a cane, in addition to all the designs! I just got the pharmacy kind that folds up. Maybe $15. I'm thinking of decorating it with the tape drummers use on their drumsticks: lots colors and long-lasting.